Chapter 32
I winced as the oil lamp shattered, etched glass tinkling down onto the ancient hardwoods.
"No... no... definitely not the elm..." the old man breathed, snatching the wand out of my hand.
Wand shopping was clearly not going as well as planned.
Sirius shot me a sympathetic, yet amused, smile, looking particularly handsome in his red jumper that mid-morning. He sat looking all elegant near the frosted shop window beside a rather large, rather old, and rather cranky woman.
The woman was not quite so handsome. Freckles and liver spots speckled her wrinkled skin, her rather round head was topped with short greying brown blowzy hair and a mink pointed hat. She wore dark purple robes that might have been in fashion before Dad was born, an ugly dolphin diamond encrusted broach, and was drenched in a pungent, sickly sweet perfume that made one's eyes water when one got too close (which Sirius most definitely was). Oh, and she was knitting, aggressively—and she also happened to be my aunt Gerdy.
Mr. Olivander handed me my twenty-second wand that afternoon: 14", dogwood and dragon heartstring.
Aunt Gerdy heaved a great sigh.
I gave Sirius an apologetic look.
I was annoyed just having her there, but his poor miserable soul had to sit next to her, nodding pleasantly as she complained. ("In my day they didn't have all this mushy gushy wand nonsense! You got whatever was available and that was that!")
I waved the dogwood and dragon heartstring and, to absolutely no ones surprise, sent about a dozen wand boxes shooting out of the shelves and onto the floor with a loud crack.
I cringed and gingerly placed the wand back on the counter. "I'm really sorry, Mr. Olivander... I didn't realize it would take so long..."
Aunt Gerdy grunted and knitted a little more aggressively. Sirius shifted away ever so slightly, eyeing the needles warily. Smart lad. (Legend has it Gerdy once took out three of Grindelwald's followers with a single knitting needle.)
Mr. Olivander took a couple seconds to register what I said, rummaging through one of the highest shelves on a tall ladder, then replied with a characteristic dismissive wave. "No, no... we mustn't rush perfection... after all... the wand chooses the witch..." He paused, then flicked his own wand to a old box making it flutter down to the counter. When he climbed down, he peered at me with those mysterious cataract filled eyes of his—he should really get that cloudiness checked out by a healer. "I wonder..." he said quietly.
He seemed like the kind of man that 'wondered' more than the average wizard, so I took his spookiness with a grain of salt.
Speaking of salt.
I was starving.
"Sirius, we should grab Fish n' Chips when we're done," I said as an aside.
His stupid handsome face lit up. "Ooo! Yes! We can go to that little muggle place down by—"
"No! NO FISH N' CHIPS!" Aunt Gerdy bellowed in her thick Scottish accent. Even Olivander looked startled. "I have strict orders to deliver Ann to the cottage as soon as we finish our shopping—"
I didn't see the point in correcting her on my name. She never listened.
"Orders from whom? Benny?" I said all sassily. "Because you can't take anything he says seriously— he's just bitter because I have a boyfriend and he doesn't—"
"No. From Dumbledore... if you must know."
Freaking Dumbledore was ruining my dating life.
You get kidnapped one time and suddenly you can't go get fish n' chips with your boyfriend?! Ridiculous.
I was scowling as I picked up the stupid wand, which didn't bode well.
The spooky old wand nearly set the place on fire.
"Shoot!"
Ollivander seemed only slightly phased by his singed eyebrows, which I guess was a good thing. "How about a nice Holly?"
The holly sucked too.
Literally.
I accidentally charmed a small tornado that tugged at the end of Aunt Gerdy's yarn ball.
By this point we were all getting a little antsy. Even the usually cool Ollivander.
Aunt Gerdy frowned deeply, making the wrinkles on her face even more prominent. "You should give her a Yew," she practically ordered the man in her aristocratic, authoritarian way. "Greengrass women are notoriously 'Yewy'"
I snorted. The way she said "Yewy" made it sound like a bad word—though, to her it probably was.
You see, Gerdy was actually my great aunt from my mum's side—the Abbots. She and my dad got on well enough, but she always hated his family for how they treated Mum. So if she was calling me 'Yewy', it probably wasn't a complement.
However, to her credit, I didn't recall waving any Yew wands that afternoon. Most of the ones I'd tried were willow or unicorn hair like my last one, but none of those felt quite right—clearly. Yew was worth a try at least.
Ollivander peered at me with those cataract eyes of his once more—a few drops of dittany would do him some good, but it seemed rude to give him my medical opinion at the present moment.
"Yew... you and Yew..."
Sirius was fighting very hard to keep a straight face. Merlin, we needed to get out of there.
"I do have... but..." Ollivander tsked and tutted and puttered around for a while in that batty way of his, then finally disappeared from the shop entirely, going into a back room.
"Four sickles says he's bailing," Sirius laughed.
"Oh, shush..." Gerdy scolded, though for a moment she seemed almost amused, the corners of her mouth twitching upward.
Leave it to Sirius to woo all my relatives—excluding Benjamin the baboon, of course.
When Ollivander returned, he came carrying with him a dusty box that looked older than Aunt Gerdy—which is really old because I'm pretty sure she was school pals with Dumbles. Anyways, it was old. And looked like it had been nibbled on by more than a few mice and doxies. Quality wands indeed...
"This wand has sat in my shop for 200 odd years..." Ollivander said in his raspy, spooky voice once again.
I wasn't sure if the '200 odd years' bit was supposed to be some fun exposition, or a selling point, or if he was trying to subtly hint to take it easy on the wand waving since it was geriatric. My money was on the last one though.
"Curious as wands go, Miss Greengrass... Nine and a quarter inches... Yew and Phoenix feather... yes... very curious wand indeed... exceptionally rare pair..."
"Ah! El! A weirdo wand!" Sirius chuckled. "It's perfect for you!"
"If you don't shut it, I'll shove this weirdo wand right up your—" I suddenly realized I was in polite company and Sirius sniggered. "Um... so it's special?" I said, smiling sheepishly at Ollivander.
He frowned slightly, probably annoyed that we weren't taking this as seriously as he was. "Quite special."
Gerdy hmphed.
I opened the box and coughed at the amount of dust, yet the wand itself looked perfectly fine.
Better than fine, actually.
The box was hideous and tattered but the wand itself was... cute.
Ollivander played it up to be this regal and mystic wizarding instrument... but it was just sort of... cute. Not what you would expect. I wouldn't say it was graceful or elegant... or even pretty, though it wasn't by any means an ugly wand—it was just... cute.
It was pretty short, as far as wands went, but not too shot, and had little hearts carved on the handle. If I were picking my first wand at 11 I would've have thought it was the most adorable thing I'd ever seen.
Without further ado, I picked up the sweet little wand and flicked it, bracing myself for the worst.
This time there were no broken lamps, or flames, or tornadoes. A glow of golden sparks like tiny fireworks sprinkled around us and something just felt... right. I felt a warmth, a fuzzy warmth that reached all the way into my soul.
I beamed. "I'll take it!"
"Weirdo wand for the win!" Sirius cheered.
I swiftly jinxed him some dog ears with said weirdo wand.
"How'd the wand shopping go, Ellie Boo?" Dad chirped as I dusted the floo dirt off my shoulders.
I coughed and it took a few beats to realize he'd laid out every bit of broom maintenance equipment he owned in the middle of the living room. "It was fine..." I trailed off absently, taking in the many racing brooms leaned against the couch and over arm chairs. "Er... what's up with all..." I gestured to the cluttered mess, "this." It seemed he had unearthed his entire broom collection in the time it took for me to purchase my new wand.
Dad pushed some dirty blonde hair out of his eyes with his forearm, hands too busy clipping the stray straws off a Cleansweep 300 as he laughed. "Oh, just doing some spring cleaning!"
"It's winter."
He laughed again. "It's just an expression, Ellie Boo!"
I frowned. He was too happy. Benny, Sirius, and I were leaving in less than 24 hours and here he was polishing his broom collection?
"Where's Sirius?" he asked, still snipping away, either unaware of my frowniness or purposefully ignore it.
"He went with Gerdy to grab us lunch..." I said, sitting in the only spot available upon the loveseat beside some dirty rags. "Apparently it's too risky to take me to a muggle fish n' chips joint."
Dad purposefully ignored the latter half of my explanation and switched to polishing.
"Where's Benny?" I asked after it was clear he wasn't going to speak.
Dad rolled his eyes, yet still not meeting mine. "Doing laundry..." he said as if this was ridiculous and unnecessary—bold stance for someone in his situation, I observed. "I asked him to help me out down here but he said..." Dad hesitated. "Well you know how your brother is."
Yeah, he probably said he shouldn't be cleaning his massive broom collection when we had two house guests and three teenagers who needed to get ready to back to boarding school.
"Right..." I said running a hand through my curly hair probably making it a billion times frizzier. "Well I'm going to go... go check on him..." I stood and nearly sent a tin of polish rolling onto the floor. "See if I can convince him to my laundry as well..." I added with a faked laugh.
Normal Dad would have noticed it was fake and forced, but broom maintenance obsessed Dad couldn't pick up on social nuance in quite the same way.
"Good luck with that," he chuckled, eyes still never leaving the broom as I walked towards the stairs. "Oh! But do me a favor while your up there and tell him not to run off after dinner... I have an announcement to make."
I blinked. "An announcement? What kind of announcement?"
He smiled like he was hiding the best secret in the world. "You'll have to wait and see."
"Benny, he's totally cracked," I said closing his bedroom door too forcefully behind me, making the portrait of Leonard Spencer-Moon (his favorite Minister for magic) wobble on the wall above his dresser.
Benny, lowered the boring book he was reading about dream theory frowned from where he was lounging on his bed, yet making a face for me to continue.
"He said he has an 'announcement' to make after dinner and that you can't run off to your death eater friends—"
Benny boo raised an eyebrow. "That's what he said?"
I waved him off in annoyance, seating myself at the foot of his blue bedspread. "Close enough... Do you know what he's on about?"
Benny sighed, bookmarking the page and placed the book on his oddly empty bedside table. His whole room seemed empty. It was usually pretty clean (this is Benjamin we're talking about after all), but it was strange seeing all his stuff packed away.
It reminded me that I hadn't even started packing.
"No... but I'd be willing to bet it has something to do with the brooms..." he said wearily.
I fiddled with the itchy knitted, navy blue blanket Aunt Gerdy had made him for some birthday—I was sure he only had it out in case she came in his room. I wondered if he'd keep it there for the rest of term while he was at school and she was there. The idea of Dad being taken care of by Gerdy made my insides all restless, on edge. "We can't just leave him here, Benny... not when he's like this..."
"He's going to be fine, El. Gerdy will—"
"Fine? He's completely off his rocker! Have you looked downstairs?!"
"He's just cleaning, El."
"His entire broom collection? He doesn't even like cleaning!" I said, speaking theatrically with my hands.
That stumped Benny for a moment. He shifted so he was sitting beside me. "Look, how about we just see how things go having Gerdy here..." I drew breath, ready to retaliate, but he spoke before I could. "If it looks like he... like he needs more... help... I'll take care of it..."
"But—"
"El... I said I'd take care of it... You need to focus on school... not Dad."
I knew Ben would keep his word. I don't know how. Probably some weird sibling telepathy. But I also knew I couldn't do what he wanted me to do. I couldn't just stop worrying about my dad when he was like this.
Sure, it was broom polishing now... but what if it turned into something more dangerous later? My mind flashed to a time long forgotten: the spring break after Mum died.
Those few months after Mum passed were difficult for all of us. Benny became a pain in arse rule follower and I was a nervous wreck. But dad took things the worst of all of us... not that we knew being at Hogwarts and all.
A few weeks prior to our return, Dad had evidently become obsessed with photography. And I don't use to word obsessed lightly. He owl-ordered dozens and dozens of books, and cameras, and random photography equipment—spending no small part of our fortune (made more significant by the fact that he'd quit his job playing for Puddlemere United when mum got sick). He'd never even taken an interest in photography before this.
When we got home, thanks to the Potters since dad never showed at the platform, the whole cottage was an absolute mess, filled to the brim with photography supplies and boxes and half read books.
Benny's room had been turned into a dark room.
Mine a gallery for his photographs of weird things like diner chairs and stray cats.
The kitchen was a mess. Food had been left out, uncovered, dirty dishes spilling out of the sink and onto the filthy counters, trash over flowing and buzzing with gnats.
Dad was a mess.
Unshaved. Unshowered. Unconscious. Holed up in his dark bedroom.
Apparently, shortly after buying the entire catalog of magical photography equipment available, reality hit him over the head and sent him into a deep dark funk.
I remember how scared I was standing in that house... that house that didn't seem like mine. Standing in the sea of chaos, my one anchor to normalcy had cut the chain that bound us, and I felt like I was being tossed in the storm. My father, the one who was supposed to be there for me was in shambles, completely unreliable and emotionally unavailable. Our house, my safe place, felt like a battle zone.
Sure, dad had always been moody. He had his ups and downs like anyone, but Mum always knew how to handle it. She always made things better. Sometimes she would make him go on a run to 'get his energy out'... others she made him homemade potions to help he'd get tired or too keyed up. And we just thought it was normal. It was just Dad being dad. Sometimes he was sad Dad or happy Dad. But he was always himself. And home was always home.
This wasn't Dad. This wasn't home.
It didn't take long after the Potters dropped us off for Benny to fetch Aunt Gerdy. She had plucked Dad out of bed and whisked him off to Saint Mungo's while Benny talked me through a panic attack (those happened a lot more often those days). A few hours and several potions later, was when we learned that what dad went through was not quite so normal.
Gerdy had stayed with dad in the hospital, while Benny and I went back home. Benny cleaned the mess, returned the photography equipment, got our money back, and took care of me until Dad came home a few days later. Benny made our home, home again. He made it safe.
But when Dad came back we never talked about what happened.
It was understood that it was a moment of our collective memory that we would all ignore for the foreseeable future (which is incredibly unhealthy and non-advisable).
Until that day, Benny and I had never talked about it directly to each other or anyone else to my knowledge... Not even Sirius knew how bad things had really been (which might have explained why he idolized dad more than we did).
I don't know why we didn't talk about it though. Maybe the Dad in us hoped if we ignored it it wouldn't be real. Maybe we were ashamed. Maybe we didn't want to admit that our little family wasn't as perfect as everyone thought. Maybe we just didn't want people to think bad of Dad. He was, after all, amazing a majority of the time. People shouldn't be judged for their lowest moments.
Whatever the reason, it was becoming clear that the silence would soon be breaking, either with a whisper or crash.
"When you say 'take care of it...'" I said, voice so small—like the scared little girl who'd just walked into that cluttered house a few years prior. "You mean Saint Mungo's, don't you?"
He didn't answer. He didn't have to. His eyes said it all. Benny would do what he always did. Clean up the messes dad left.
"Did you get your new wand?" he asked, instead of answering.
I shrugged. "Eventually. Broke a few lamps... caused a fire and a small tornado—" His eyes widened slightly at the word 'tornado'. "but we found a keeper in the end." I handed him the cutesy wand out of my pocket for his careful inspection. It wouldn't have surprised me in the least if he'd read some full book on wand properties.
"It's Yew," he said, surprised. Ten points to me for being right on the wand knowledge thing.
"Yew and Phoenix feather, technically."
"Mines yew too..." he said, running his hand over the handle. "Weird..."
"Well... you know what they say..." I began sagely. "Us Greengrass women are notoriously 'Yewy,'"
Benny swiftly whacked me with a pillow.